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thick cock.” His hands delved into her long blond tresses before he yanked her face into his crotch and his head fell back. “Suck until I cum or I’ll spew my load into your fucking eye. You hear me, bitch?”
    To say I was sickened was a horrid understatement.
    I was so overwhelmed with disgust, my mind utterly consumed with hatred for this fucking asshole that I’d placed on a pedestal and worshipped for the last eight months that I didn’t realize what was happening when Sam let down the tailgate of his truck.
    Honestly I didn’t know until he had me pinned, bent over with my skirt flipped up over my ass and felt the metal grating of his truck biting into the flesh covering my hipbones. He shoved his hand between my legs before he grabbed the panties covering me and yanked them down.
    I screamed, as loud as I could. I let the cry for help, the shrieking words, “Wes, please! Help me Wes, please fucking HELP ME!” tear their way from my soul, claw up my throat and pierce the night with nothing but moans and grunts as an answer to my pleas.
    When Sam shoved my panties so far into my mouth, I gagged struggling to breath around the suffocating material.
    And vaguely, somewhere between my sobs and tears, I remember - I’ll always remember - as my best friend, my only friend, my brother shoved himself from one hole into another, having to listen to Wesley Jacobs reach orgasm.
    The sound was so disturbing, it caused me to heave every drop of beer I’d consumed that night. And after I lost the contents of my stomach, I then drowned in it.
    That’s why… You wanted to know why I was so goddamn fucking set against working for him? That’s fucking why.
    And never fucking ask again.
    Sam tossed my lifeless ass out of the back of his truck, and hauled his ass from what I could gather.

    I woke up in a hospital days later—utterly shocked. I honestly didn’t understand why I was still alive. I’d been hanging outside the pearly gates with some woman claiming to be my mom and an older woman that kept apologizing for her ‘shitty piece of shit’ son. So yeah, I was confused when I woke up in a hospital bed. But not too confused to know I needed to run if I planned on staying alive.
    Remember that deep wound and biting pain I mentioned earlier when Wes ignored my existence?
    Yeah, turns out I had no real fucking grasp on what pain really was… Ten weeks later, after living on the streets and ducking from every cop car or authoritive looking adult, I fucking face-planted into the sidewalk, crippled by pain so fiercely, that even after ALL the shit I’d been through, lived through, remained conscious through, THIS pain…It took me past my goddamn knees.
    The pain of an ectopic pregnancy twisting and rupturing your fallopian tube… It takes you past your knees.
    It brings you to your fucking face.
    easily brushed off by someone you’ve watched for months. Someone that has consumed both your every waking thought as well as your dreams. It’s hard to describe the bite or pain you feel when you’ve done EVERYTHING just to capture his attention for a space in time; knowing.
     

Chapter 7
    Convince a Woman to Submit

     
    From the moment Stella left my office, my worthless mind has done absolutely nothing but think of her - imagine her in every fucking sexual position - on her knees, bent over my desk, sitting proudly on my cock and riding me to kingdom cum.
    None of it is as fucked up as when I stood in the kitchen downing tumblers of scotch and looked up to see her sexy little ass in nothing but one of my button up shirts, unbuttoning it as she walked towards me with a smirk on her face, only to vanish into thin air when I reached my hand out to feel her skin when she got close enough to touch.
    Shit’s fucked up, right?
    A shitty day, a shitty night, and another shitty day later I remove my jacket and tie, leaving them in the R8 before stepping through the double doors of Chained, unbuttoning the first few buttons of